


Sweet Sennen Beach

by WritingByEboniO (EboniOrchid)



Category: Merlin (BBC), Merlin (TV)
Genre: Agender Character, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bi-Gender, Bi-Gender Character(s), Character Study, Cissexism, Exhibitionism, Femme, Flirting, Fluid Sexuality, Genderbending, Genderfluid, Genderfuck, Genderqueer, Genderqueer Character, Gwaine Fest, Implied fetishization, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Objectification, Other, Plot, Queer Themes, Romance, Schmoop, Slash, Trans, Transphobia, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 06:40:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1256563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EboniOrchid/pseuds/WritingByEboniO
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a modern day beach, Gwaine, in his sleek black surfer's wetsuit, meets witty brunette Melinda (Merlin) who is lounging in a sun hat, bikini top, and swim skirt that accentuate her impossible legs and her captivating mouth. When he meets her friends, Gwen and Morgana, however, and sees the expectant way they arch eyebrows at them both, he starts to wonder if he's missed something. Gwaine may not be as clueless they think, though, nor as uncomplicated as Melinda might imagine. He may just be riding an unexpected blue-eyed wave toward love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Sennen Beach

**Author's Note:**

> **Soundtrack:** ["I Am Me"](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VUMK4Da9Avg) by Willow Smith ([lyrics](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/willowsmith/iamme.html)).
> 
> **ART by[Barbitone (Tumblr)](http://barbitone.tumblr.com/)**  
> [](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1254058)  
>   
> [Art master post HERE! (AO3)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1254058)
> 
> **Disclaimer:** Art belongs to the ever awesome Barbitone. Characters belong to their BBC-related owners. I just play around with them for fun. Also? Please do not use this as a dating instruction manual!
> 
> PLEASE READ WARNINGS CAREFULLY! //  For more info about my fanfic, including links to all works, please [go here](http://bit.ly/18SGyfT).  [Will eventually be uploaded to/revised for AO3.]  //  [Interested in reading original fiction by awesome fanfic writers?  Fic Street is on the way!](http://bit.ly/13Su8jj)
> 
> * * *

Coming out of the waves with his board always felt a bit like walking through cool liquid led and into a dry hot furnace, but Gwaine had to do it. He was hungry and seawater wasn't nearly alcoholic enough to really quench his thirst. It meant he strode back up the beach, away from his nearly private nook toward the tourist-strewn stretch of beach that marked his return to civilization. He only paused in his walk when someone shouted from out in the water and he swung, body and surfboard with him, to see if it was anyone he knew or anyone who needed help.

"Hey, watch where you swing that thing!" It was not the voice of someone in the water, but rather someone behind him that seemed to matter right then, though. The people in the water were just messing about, having a laugh.

Gwaine turned back around, swinging his board again, but this time with a bit more care as he peered down at an impossibly leggy woman lounging on a towel with a bit of shade from a red beach umbrella and red sun hat which matched her rather skimpy top and incredibly short skirt. "Right," Gwaine finally managed, "Sorry about that."

She smiled and Gwaine was even more charmed, something twinkling in eyes a shade of blue that he could see somehow even in the shadows of her hat. "No problem. I'm sure your arse in that suit gets you out of rather a lot of trouble."

[   
(go give the artist love) ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1254058)

Smirking even as he shook his head, Gwaine coughed. "I'm ... sorry. What was that?"

Her ... Adam's apple - if that was truly what it was - bobbed noticeably when she laughed, and Gwaine couldn't tell if it was her laughter or the strange moment of confusion that made the muscles low in his back shiver, uncertain but intrigued. "You heard me and you know *exactly* what I mean."

"Do I?" He felt a little ridiculous, but in the mood for fun, so he turned enough to wiggle his arse at her and look over his shoulder as well, a cheeky grin across his face. "You mean that old thing? I'm pretty sure it's better at getting me *into* trouble."

She laughed again, like there were no cares in the world, just this beach and this silly conversation. And Gwaine wondered why there was suddenly a flock of seagulls in his stomach and why he felt strange just walking away up the rest of the way to The Shore, the restaurant where no one cared how wet your shoes or arse were.

"You know," he said as he turned back around to face her properly, "I was heading up to The Shore for some lunch if you're okay with missing the sun for a while." With skin that pale it was a wonder she wasn't burnt already, really. She must've used SPF 150 for sure.

[   
(go give the artist love) ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1254058)

Her laughter faded from her mouth but seemed to have set up residence in her eyes. The way she nodded slowly, absentmindedly, not in reply but in thinking about her answer, though, made Gwaine think she wasn't going to give in to the weirdo stranger who'd just wiggled his arse in her direct line of sight. But she eventually looked up and seemed to study him a moment before smiling, small and uncertain but willing to take a risk. "Sure, okay. I was supposed to meet some friends there in a bit anyway."

"Great." He angled the nose of his board well past her accessories and leaned forward to offer her a hand up. She took it and Gwaine noted that her fingers were long, as long as his, but her nails were blunt and painted perfectly in that same stunning-on-her shade of red. And her eyes? They were even bluer up close. He didn't realize just how close they were standing until she _ummed_ , though, not yet drawing her hand away, but shifting awkwardly.

"Sorry about that." He laughed and gave her his most charming smile even as he stepped back and bowed, like the proper gentleman he wasn't. "Obviously I don't have people complimenting my arse nearly enough."

She let his hand go, but he could still feel the puff of her laugher on the his hair. "Obviously."

When he straightened up, she had already gathered her towel and turned toward the boardwalk, walking in long strides that made him think of catwalks and red carpets and- ... God, why had she so designed to torture him with a skirt that barely covered the curve at the top of legs like slimly muscled stilts? He wasn't entirely certain what sort of person he was looking at right then, but for the moment, he didn't really care.

Watching her walk confidently up the beach and then the boardwalk ahead of him seemed to make Gwaine rather less coordinated himself. He wasn't sure how many times he'd apologized about his board and its not always thoughtful swinging. _How on Earth had he hit **that**?_ It meant he was frankly appalled by its behavior when he traded it for a ticket at the gear-valet. The fact that Melinda laughed at him, though, and waited to walk with him into the building, made it all worth it.

"Come on." She had a laugh like someone who didn't fake it, like someone who genuinely laughed often and wanted everyone to join in. "You might kill someone if you're not put to good use."

"Put to good--" He stumbled while following after her, but made it into a rather charming lean against the wall by the restaurant's hostess stand. Or, he thought so, at least. "Is that a proposition?"

He smirked but she was already turning away, not toward the hostess, but toward a table by the window where a pretty tan girl with curly hair was waving rather excitedly at them. "Merl--" Another woman, a mix of fair and dark, leaned into the first's shoulder, whispering something rapidly in her ear as her intense eyes watched Gwaine. The wave stuttered with the aborted name even as his new friend smiled their way and began to stride in their direction, Gwaine picking up his lean and striding after.

Curiously, the tan girl touched the fingers of her previously waving hand to her lips as if nervous. Did she think he had been procured for her? ... Had he? That would be quite the luncheon, wouldn't it?

Tall-and-Lovely - he was naming her that until she deigned to share her name - slid into the seat by the window opposite the fair one, which meant he took up residence across from the now-blushing curly-haired girl. He gave her what he knew was his second best knee-weakening grin. "Apologies for crashing the party, ladies, but technically I was invited."

"Only," his beach companion offered, "because he has a rather respectable rear end and it seemed a shame to turn away such innate talent."

[   
(go give the artist love) ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1254058)

The tan girl's cheeks only darkened, but she did laugh. The fair one, though - well - her laughter was just as powerful, just as dominant, as her eyes. Gwaine didn't have to know her name to know she would be like fire in any relationship or even just in bed. Thrilling, yes, but not manageable by most any means. He offered her an easy, closed-mouth smile and a nod. _I see you and I have no quarrel with you. Even if I also have no interest._

"Well, do tell." The fair woman's dark eyes sparkled, her voice smooth with an undertow of aristocracy. "Who is the handsome scamp you've picked up today?"

Gwaine feigned shock and blinked at the lanky woman to his right as if mortally offended. "Do you _regularly_ pick up handsome scamps? I thought I was your _first_." She laughed and he loved it, smiling lazily as his eyes flicked between her glittering eyes and her terribly tempting mouth. "Doesn't matter," he couldn't help the heat in his voice as he smirked, "I _will_ be the best."

The soft blush in her cheeks seemed to interfere with the laughing process, but Gwaine didn't mind. She did touch the tip of her tongue to the corner of her lip as she looked at him, though, finally just saying: "I don't know his name. He didn't introduce himself. Just asked me up for lunch as if we were already familiar."

"Gwaine." It fell from his mouth automatically, but his own tongue felt dry, like he'd been staring at her for an hour and forgotten to hydrate. He _had_ forgotten to hydrate, but he didn't care right then. She was very easy to look at, the angles and curves of her face, the too slim set of her shoulders. He wondered, strangely, if she was cold in the breeze with all the open windows, even if it was hot on the beach. "And you are ... Merle?"

She shook her head and then tipped it back a little, giving the sense of someone of bearing who had only just remembered their status, even if her accent read nothing at all like a blue-blood. "I prefer Melinda right now."

"Melinda." As if she might prefer something else tomorrow or later or ... maybe some _where_ else. _Hmm._ Gwaine didn't miss a beat in pondering it, though. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Would you mind if I stripped at your lunch table?" The question flowed without interruption from his general reply, but he didn't feel the need to hold back at all with her. He chuckled as her eyebrows rose, however. "The wetsuit, I mean. I have shorts on underneath."

"Oh." The word seemed infused with a rather full exhale and Gwaine wondered if he might be making her skirt tighter instead of more damp.

The thought nudged at things in him, both images stirring desire he hadn't quenched in weeks. Maybe stripping down to beach shorts wasn't exactly the best plan. He stood anyway, though, only then noticing the two women on the other side of the table again, shaking his head as he laughed at himself for having become so thoroughly caught up in his conversation with - no, just _with_ \- Melinda. "My apologies. I'll just ..." He tipped his head toward the back of the restaurant. "Be back momentarily."

"Of course," drawled the fair one, eyes practically dancing now, a smirk of her own marking the wit in her voice. "Take whatever time you need."

"Morgana." Melinda chided her, but Gwaine had already flashed a smile and turned away toward the men's room.

It turned out to be a good plan. There was, in fact, a rather large problem with his shorts. Which required immediate attention. While leaning back against the wall of the stall furthest from the door, shutting his eyes against the fluorescent lights in the room, and taking his cock in hand to the rhythm of breaths that eventually sped, stuttered, and stopped. Abruptly.

[   
(go give the artist love) ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1254058)

His hand was hot and slick and if he thought about her mouth or alarmingly short skirt again, he was going to miss lunch entirely. He was quick, but not _that_ quick. And, frankly, drawing his clean hand through his hair, he felt a bit dirty about having a wank thinking about a girl he'd just met, one who was sitting in a booth less than half a league away. He was, he acknowledged, not really a gentleman at all.

Washing his hands, he caught and then avoided his own eyes in the mirror. _She deserves better than you._ He grabbed his wetsuit from the hook and carried it out, down the aisle furthest from the table he'd left, to check it in with his board at the gear valet. _You should leave,_ he thought, standing in the sun again. But he didn't really want to. Instead, he bought a souvenir tee on his way past the cashier and tugged it on as he walked back to the table. It didn't match his shorts as it was green and they were orange with white palm leaves, but he felt better, like he might actually be proper enough for lunch with a triad of beautiful women who had more going in their lives than bonfires on the beach.

"Sorry about that." He smiled as he slid into his seat, but found his hand running through his hair again. _Nervous? No, of course not. How silly of you to think so._

"Well. It was a good show." Morgana, apparently, liked to press any perceived advantage and for a moment, the pressure of her gaze against him made Gwaine wonder if his foray into pleasure in the men's room had been on display.

He choked on his breath. "I'm- ... I'm sorry?"

"Don't mind Morgana. She's very forward."

Gwaine glanced over just in time to see something unspoken pass between Melinda and Morgana. Were they ... siblings? They had that same dark hair, that same fair skin and intense eyes, though the color wasn't quite the same.

"And she rather likes to bother, um, Melinda's friends." Finally hearing more from the obviously sweet curly-haired girl drew Gwaine's eye along with his smile.

"You know ... that's the second time I've been given the impression that I'm just one of many. Are you trying to give me a complex?"

"Does that involve you taking off your shirt again?"

"Morgana, _really_." Melinda's tone was no longer playful but low and sharp. Even though Morgana waived it off and rolled her eyes, Gwaine could tell that she had let herself shift with the mood.

"Okay. Okay." She conceded, flashing an obligatory smile-for-the-media type smile. "Gwaine, have you met Gwen yet?" She put her arm around the other woman in a manner that suggested possession but no jealousy or insecurity to go with it. "She's my girlfriend. Is that a problem for you?"

"No." Gwaine shook his head, eyebrows drawn down. "Should it be?"

She did not let go of the supposed Gwen, even as the woman arched a dark eyebrow at her in clear annoyance. Morgana wasn't even looking at her, though. Her eyes were pinning Gwaine to his chair. "Do you have a problem with two men being together?"

"No." Again, Gwaine shook his head and replied easily, honestly, mouth quirking up in one corner despite his single raised eyebrow. He hadn't understood at first, but now? Maybe. Except ... that didn't seem quite the situation either. "Is this going somewhere? And did you already order lunch or are we still waiting for a server?"

They had ordered, so Gwaine flagged the man down as he passed with a drink tray, and when the conversation drifted - or had Melinda pushed it? - he tried to relax. Apparently they were all in town for beach fun on their holidays. Also apparently, between Morgana's chatter, Gwen's repeatedly (if endearingly) clarified and qualified responses, and Merlin's further explanations, complete with gestures, Gwaine wasn't expected to contribute much in the way of words.

He drank, he ate, he smiled at the right parts, laughed when it seemed appropriate, and even dared to ask a question or two. As someone who usually spoke his mind rather frequently, and often to his detriment, it was both refreshing and a bit overwhelming to be left with so few openings for his own speech. Even as he knew himself to be an outsider at their table, their eyes and flung-about hands kept him invited into and included in nearly every tale and trial. So by the time the bill came, he was, frankly, dazed with an overload of information about odd innkeepers, rude shop clerks, lecherous mechanics, excellent pastries, their opinions on the best times to be down at the beach, and the lives of friends and siblings of theirs whose names he'd already mixed up.

He gallantly attempted to pay the total bill himself, despite knowing very well that it would put him in arrears elsewhere in his bills, but Morgana was really quite insistent. So he shrugged. She probably had the money.

#

Melinda all but dragged him from the restaurant, not with her arm, but with the invisible lead she had somehow attached to his chest an hour before. She strode away, back toward her spot on the beach with her towel folded in one hand and her hat atop her head again, and he worked to catch up, abandoning his suit and board at the valet. He could always pick them up later.

"So ..." She said it like the word itself was a question and she was certain he had an answer already prepared. But he didn't.

"So ... that was an excellent lunch? But The Shore is always good." He shook the stiffness out of his hair almost wishing it was wet again, but not racing to dunk himself back in the ocean. He probably needed a shower.

"What did you think of my friends?" She didn't look at him, continuing to look out at the beach and the water as they strolled down the boardwalk. And yet, Gwaine felt thoroughly observed.

It wasn't hard to smile, laughter in his breath. "Odd sorts, a little, but I rather like that. Very friendly. Is Morgana always so--" He knew the proper word for it wasn't _masculine_ , even if his mind supplied it first. The force of her personality and the way she wielded it didn't inherently have anything whatsoever to do with either masculinity or femininity. "So ... aggressive?" Her girlfriend Gwen had stood her own ground enough times in the conversation for Gwaine to revise his immediate impression of her as a shy delicate type. Shy, yes. Delicate, not at all.

"Yes." Melinda answered simply, a bit of laughter in her own voice as she glanced aside to smile at him. "And Gwen is always a bit flustered by it. I'm pretty sure she likes it that way. They've been together for ages."

"What about you then?" Stepping off the treated wood into the sand with her, Gwaine knew that he was being bold, that she was a tourist and he was working in town - for the moment, at least. But he didn't try to stop himself. He didn't really want to. "Do you have a girlfriend or boyfriend or something?"

For a moment, her eyes caught the sunlight in the oddest way, like there were gold flecks in the blue, and he was mesmerized. She just hummed, teasing him with a non-answer, her coyness that of someone who was used to keeping secrets, even if they eventually shared them on their own time. She left him blinking at the foot of the boardwalk to toss out her towel on a spot she'd chosen and when she sat, he took up residence beside her.

"I'm going to take that as a no then."

"That seems reasonable. I _was_ rather complimentary earlier, if I recall." She smirked and he was glad they were mostly watching the ocean and not each other because he wasn't sure his words would work consistently if he'd been facing her instead of meeting her eyes occasionally as one or the other of them looked over.

"Do you usually procure male attentions by commenting on their back packages?" They both laughed.

"No, but I was considering the tactic in future." Her laughter and voice softened, though. "If it works out."

Gwaine drew in a deep breath, letting a pleasant shiver ride down his back. The back and forth had suggested _some_ interest, he'd thought, but Melinda wasn't like her blunt friend in this respect. So Gwaine hadn't entirely been sure of her interest until right then. "Well," he smirked, "I can't say I'm much of a catch, but I'm sure I can add a little spice to your hols."

No. He'd said something wrong. Her mouth was twisting down into a frown. "Is that how things usually work for you? You serve as a diversion for vacationers?"

_Yes,_ he thought but didn't say, _if that._ He was not very good with relationships and few had ever been good to or for him. It didn't really matter, though, he wasn't the type anyone wanted to bring home when the season was done. Even his female surfer friends were _friends_ and not more for what he imagined were very good reasons. He smiled at Melinda anyway and shrugged. "I move around. And I'm not exactly the sort people find that interesting in winter."

Her frown only deepened and when she looked over at him with eyebrows bent into a deep V, Gwaine felt opened up, like her eyes were folding back all the coverings he'd put over his heart, and his smile wavered. "Why not?"

"I drink too much." It was _an_ answer, automatic, if stiff and strange on his tongue. But he knew it wasn't _the_ answer.

"Are you violent?" She studied him, but he didn't feel judged. She was trying to understand, trying to see what he had thought was obvious.

"No." He shook his head, now feeling a bit confused himself. "Not unless there is a thief involved or some other unscrupulous sort."

She nodded, believing him easily but still puzzling him over. "There are meetings for that if it's really a problem."

Gwaine wanted to snort, to laugh at that, but Melinda's eyes somehow held the ball of his emotions suspended in his chest. He didn't know if it was possible, but a part of him wanted her to figure him out, to unravel the mess that everyone else eventually recoiled from and straighten him out in her solid slim hands. "It's not _that_ much of a problem." Most of the time. When he had work. When he had _good_ work. He didn't let himself shudder thinking about the bad work.

"Then that's not the issue." Even with the gentlest tone, she made a part of him feel very young and very lost, like he was still sixteen and living on the street. She thought he had the answers but he didn't. It was just easier to think they didn't want him because he drank to much and because he was generally useless.

[   
(go give the artist love) ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1254058)

He yanked himself away from that gaze, forcing a chuckle into his dry mouth as he stared out across the water. She saw entirely too much. "Well, maybe there's no issue at all then. Maybe I'm just like milk and start to taste _unfortunate_ after a few months."

She reached for him, just a hand on his arm, but he didn't pull away and she didn't say anything else for a while. The beach felt different with her there, the sights and sounds of others more distant somehow, as if they were contained within their own space, the breeze circling them despite the heat. If his dreams had ever been this vivid, he might have questioned his sense that this was reality. He'd just met her and yet ... he found himself slowly shaking his head, looking over at her again.

"Who _are_ you?"

She smiled and the gold was in her eyes again. "One day I'll tell you."

"Will I last that long?" He tried to laugh and at least succeeded in smirking.

Melinda just leaned in carefully, her hat brushing against his hair, and she kissed his cheek before she whispered in his ear. "Yes. You will." She didn't explain, but somehow ... he believed her.

#

Eventually, Gwaine said, her head on his shoulder and her hat in her lap. "You smell amazing by the way."

"Hmm? Oh!" She grinned and Gwaine could feel it against his skin, his heart leaping like a prized show horse. "It's cherry vanilla sunscreen. I made it myself."

"Made it yourself?"

"Yep." She pulled up to look at him and he missed the weight of her against him, but her hand found his leg and his agitating parts soothed, no longer disconnected. "Magicka Organic Beautyworks. It's part of how I'm paying for this holiday, actually."

He raised an eyebrow at her, trying not to rework his view of her, to imagine himself even further below wherever he'd thought himself before. "You have your own company?"

"Not officially yet, but soon probably."

"Oh?" The confidence she held so easily reminded him of himself when he hit the waves and very rarely anywhere else. He could seduce someone as confidently, if he pleased, but there was almost always half a catch involved at least. Was she an heiress then, or heir, of an industrialist strain rather than an aristocratic one? Was he to be _kept_ as others had kept him?

"I'm technically at uni. Just doing it on the side." The words came out in a slower cadence than she'd used before and he could see that she was watching him, trying to read his thoughts.

Gwaine held himself above the swimming sharks of concerns that didn't matter right then, continuing to smile. "Oh yeah? Where at?"

"Edinburgh." She seemed worried now and he wasn't sure why.

"Not bad." Gwaine smirked, lightening the mood by force of will alone. "Never was a university man myself. Kind of go where the work is, you know?"

"Yeah?" She took the bait, though Gwaine was fairly certain it was because she wanted to nudge at him in other ways. "What kind of work?"

"Mostly sports training." He winked. "A little modeling. Bet you'd do well in the business."

Melinda's nose scrunched. "I am more than just my looks, you know." She didn't sound like she actually thought he'd forgotten so much as felt the reminder appropriate.

"I know." Even though they'd really only just met, he knew instinctively that his words were true. "What are you studying anyway?"

"Chemistry and Art."

Gwaine blinked, stunned and intrigued, not by either of the subjects independently but by the combination of the two. "Really?"

"Yeah. I like chemistry, but art helps me stay innovative, you know? And I think it will be good for branding when I start selling more of my products." She nodded, clearly having given this subject rather a lot of though. "I'm still working on a proper logo, but I like the name. Sometimes my mixes seem a bit like potions from the way they work, but really it's just good chemistry and a little creativity." Her eyes were bright as she looked over at him, hope so apparent and alive in every curve and plane of her face. "I might even - if I can convince my advisors - make a combined honours project on the chemistry of beauty products as well as a multi-sensory art exhibit on perceptions of beauty and beauty standards."

"Multi-sensory?" Gwaine caught the rest of it, despite the speed of Melinda's speech, but he wasn't sure he understood the art exhibit.

"Not just visual, I mean. Sight. Sound. Scent. Taste. Touch. And that extra unknowable sense when someone really puts their heart into something, altering it. You know?"

Gwaine didn't know, but she made him want to learn, his smile genuine and easy as he tried to imagine all of that coming together in one art installation. "Sounds amazing."

[   
(go give the artist love) ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1254058)

Why this conversation was so incredibly pleasurable, Gwaine couldn't fully understand. The _why_ didn't really matter, however, not when the smooth poetry of her voice slipped into him like a gourmet meal fed over his lips by hand. She made him want to be the kind of man to walk beside her through such an astonishing affair. He wanted to be worthy of her every careful creative musing. And on the night of her opening, after all the lights had dimmed, he wanted to make her into art as he made love to her, showing her every way she embodied beauty and inspired its crafting in others, even a drifter like him.

He hadn't been a dreamer since age eight, but somehow he dreamed of loving her.

#

Some hours and one nap in the sun later, he felt comfortable enough to ask. "Why did Gwen call you Merle instead of Mel?"

"Because my other name is Merlin." It looked like Melinda might have said more, lain out beside him, but she paused, waiting for Gwaine's response instead.

Gwaine wasn't sure what he was supposed to say, but he knew not to be rude. So he asked a question he thought mostly safe. "That doesn't bother you?"

Melinda blinked and then shook her head, studying Gwaine's face and apparently coming to some conclusion about him that wasn't entirely favorable, but still open to giving him a chance. "Did you think I was a trans woman?"

Gwaine frowned, trying to unwrap alternative options. "You're not?"

Melinda - or was it Merlin now? - pushed up on one arm, seeming more guarded now and not less, as if Gwaine had said exactly the wrong thing even though he didn't know what that could be. "Was that what you were looking for?"

"No." He shrugged his shoulders into the sand beneath him. "I wasn't really looking for anything. You just seemed interesting."

"Do I just seem like a weirdo now?" Melinda's mouth curved into something that might have been a smile, but her eyes were like the blued metal of a shield.

"No." He pushed up onto his own elbows and shook his head. "I'm still interested."

"Because you like freaks?" She said the word casually, as if she was used to hearing it and she had learned not to absorb its spikes.

For Gwaine, however, the word was like a punch along his jaw and he reeled silently for a moment. He worked not to take the implication personally, not to get defensive, reminding himself that the world was rarely kind to people who didn't fit neatly in the societal holes they were assigned. This was just projection and survival oriented. He remembered feeling that himself, even if it had been a while.

"No." He took a breath and straightened up to sitting, turning his full body to face her. "Because you have a sharp wit, a laugh I want to hear all day, and you carry yourself like life is an event where standing out is exactly the point. And frankly it doesn't hurt that you have gorgeous legs, arresting eyes, and a luscious mouth more distracting than candy after a fast."

"Oh." Melinda's lips held that shape for a long moment and then her cheeks slowly colored. "Well." She allowed herself a small smile. "You're ... _vaguely_ attractive yourself."

In retaliation, he put sand on her towel and forced her - with very pointed, if occasionally silly, questions - to tell him more about her chemistry and her art.

#

Gwaine never asked. It wasn't that he wasn't curious or didn't want to know more about how Melinda (or Merlin) saw herself. He just wanted to get to know her without making her labels a big deal - unless she wanted them to be, and it didn't seem she did. As they walked along the edge of the beach, however, water lapping at their feet, she spoke.

"I'm-- I'd say that I don't know what I am, but that's not true. I'm _me_. I just think gender is irrelevant. For me, at least. I try not to presume for anyone else." She pressed her lips together for a moment, but then more words spilled out. "Or, maybe not irrelevant exactly, but ... it's like being in a store where absolutely nothing fits properly and you can make your own but that means it comes with no identifiable tag, you know? No brand, no size, no shorthand model number, no instructions about washing or how to send it to the cleaners. It's just ... _yours_. It fits perfectly, but you have to figure the rest out yourself or decide that tags are kind of overrated."

She finally looked away from the sliding line of ocean meeting sand, her eyes sweeping his way, and a pinch - of worry or hope or some other emotion - altered the lines of her forehead, highlighting the bright intensity of her eyes. "Can you understand that?"

"I think so." He nodded, more sure than cautious, but not wanting to promise more than he could deliver. "You're not really a woman _or_ a man? You're ... _you_. A custom work of art with no official placard to explain?"

"Yeah." Melinda nodded, the creases smoothing on her face. She didn't try to refashion the world around her, not even Gwaine's small piece of it. She was just living, just being herself, walking on the beach beside him, ever more gorgeous as the sun slipped toward the sunset. Did that really need a label?

Gwaine's mouth curved into a subtle smirk. "Alright. That's all well and good, but do you _swim_? I haven't actually ever seen you in the water, you know, despite the fact that your suit has been tormenting me all day."

The smile she offered was dazzling white, all her worries fading into mist. "If you'll come in, I'll go."

#

[   
(go give the artist love) ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1254058)

They kissed for the first time, soft wet lips against the same, while they stood hip deep in the ocean, sunset orange on both of their bare shoulders. And the labels Gwaine had thought himself so sure of just the day before seemed to melt into the salted water and float silently away. Maybe he wasn't bisexual after all. Maybe he was _beautysexual_ or _smartsexual_ or even just _you-make-me-smile-sexual_.

Her mouth tasted of organic magic cherry lip balm and Gwaine thought he might come to love cherry everything that summer. And then? Maybe - if she was right - he would learn to love it every summer and every season after.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Sweet Sennen Beach [ART POST]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1254058) by [barbitone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/barbitone/pseuds/barbitone)




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